Our presence in the world, with love.

Your body has become inspiration enough,
like gathering together a private map
of my world,

transfixed in a moment,

coming and going; arriving and departing,
at times,
when I see you, in dream.

How do you do it,
keeping yourself present while absent?

The very air you breathe,
when we're breathing together,
pulls me closer, inward and outward
it goes;


and, we lie, spread out,
in discovery;
in intimate knowledge
of our faithfulness
in the known
contours we share.

~x~William ~copyright 11/10/2009.

Advice to the Ancients [Notebook]

Sometimes,
There are half-measures
That shine.

Build on this
When words
Call to you.

Expand from these small things,
Because, life awaits.

Every word
May be important

In their place.

~x~William.

FYI :

Today was a pretty special day for me:

I've completed a 2nd book of poetry, a companion volume to "The Wind Shall Hear my Words..." [entitled: "...and, The Stars will speak them."]. The book includes some of the poems that have been posted here, as well as some that have gone unpublished.

I hope to send the finished manuscript to the publisher on October 9th, 2009.

As I always say, "onward & upward."

Clouds

In the other room,

a piano, softly, plays.

**

I'm watching the clouds now;

shifting shapes,

slowly,

drifting along,

with my thoughts...



...Your fingers, on the keys,

brush the elements:

a body of motion,

you've seemed.

to me.


**

As clement,

is this beauty,

a touch, pierces the heart.


The softness of skin, lingers,

in each subtle touch

of melody...

...and, You are here,..

..but not.

**

I'll open up myself,

to Nature,

and, Time's

inclement moments.

**

We'll embrace the clouds

this evening;

sharing, each stroke;

each, swept hands, brush.

**

So,

as I linger here,

half-way to you

and the skies blessings;


Like some love-struck field-hand,

The light, at least, for now, my Love,

has settled

behind

the Clouds.



`x~William ~ copyright 10/04/09.
[Ps: this poem has been published in another venue]

A Monumental Request

I've been asked to write
about happiness:
Smiley faces, and babbling brooks;
Or, the pursuit of happy books--
Evidence of timely things, stacked upon the shelves
And,
Giving the goose to childish things.

Sometimes, the glee is tamped-down,
And there aren't any cheerful moments.

It is the nature of life, they say, to be as rollicking as a roller-
Coaster;
As large in its emotions as an ocean of tears.

Happy is as happy goes.
If you're smiling now, dear ones,

I've hit the mark.


Today, I've chosen to lean toward your request.
I've chosen to smile
On a rainy day.

`x~William ~copyright~ 09/27/09.

....Sexy One.

The way you
Hold your head
in your hands;
an upturned, saucy, smile
tells me all.


I want to be consumed by you;
each moment,
tied to you.

Your embrace
is what I long for.

Your face,
in my hands....

...Kissable lips,
so lightly,

Longing,

To love.
`x~William ~~Copyright 09/26/09

Untitled [Notebook]:

I'll begin with the word, "untitled"; its transparency, and its invisibility,
Heavy with whatever meaning

You'll will it to be. The world will enter here,
Just as unknown, as long as we let it be.

I want to treat each word as a jumper upon a trampoline;
Reaching for the heights, the stars. Keep on, in your den,
Because even the untitled find their place,
Never untouchable,
In their riches
Always striving toward sensibility
As close as my doorstep,
And, a walk outside.

Believe, I cried,
To a world
Too loud to hear.

Even those things untitled,
Are given a place,
And, the choices we make,
Our own.

Never fear,...

...She said. Walk all those roads,


And,

Settle your sights upon home.

`x~William ~ copyright 09/23/09

Where's William??????????????????????:

[music for "staycation"]



I'm taking a short break in blogging & being online.

See you all, once again, in two weeks.
I need a staycation*, badly.

`x~William. 09/1109.

* A vacation, close to home & inexpensive.

Five, Six, Seven, Eight, and Nine

Somewhere,
between
Katrina and now
we had

lost you.

The remnants still linger,
and time doesn't stand still;
even though, we may
at times think it does.

It is just a trick of the senses,
casting out its reel,
and latching on,
without knowing what
the surface holds.

Those years,
stacked up,
carry all the weight of changes;
some more subtle than others.

The memory of you
is a fine thing
solid as brick.


In my life,
moving forward
never seemed harder.

The bag upon my shoulder,
no longer has the heft
of accumulated stones.

My heart
is full,

Forever
now;

singing the years,
like a favorite
number.

Love as always~William~copyright 09/24/2009.

Wandering.

It's always best not to set your sights too high;
Feeding small animals, or a walk in the park, is enough
For one day.

You can smile,
While admitting
The years you've worked;
Capturing each patch
Of crab-grass in your hand,
Each moment reached, breached,
And, bridged by concentrated effort.

The world will not be still any longer. There aren't any silent moments
In the City; however, you can wander there
Even in the center of a crowd.

The best years are ahead of you.
Never be fearful of wandering.
Those many roads
Are forever calling.

All the best things come
While spinning your thoughts:

The wind shall hear my words...
...And the stars will speak them.

Let your solitary moments,
He said,
Shine.

`x~William ~copyright 09/08/09

Creative Housework

I'm never
too quick
to clean.

I like my dust,
because it reminds me
that I'm still
living.

And, this...

...Well,
it makes me
happy.

`x~William ~ copyright: 08/28/2009.

Youth Movement:

Of course,
you're different.

we all were,
back then,
when we
were your age.

Words were different;
and,
they carried more weight:

a bright bit of typewritten
words seemed solid, lasting

into a Summer's day,
when being solitary
brought rewards.

You're finding your voice,
reaching for stars.

We were waiting,
back then,
same as you;

something that breathed
independence--

loving and
different--

like you.



`x~William H. Balzac ~ copyright 08/17/2009.

Life [Notebook]

It steps in front of you,
saying, "What's the meaning of this?";
throwing down the gauntlet of its immensity.

Somewhere, a bird lifts itself from the branch,
hovering for just a minute.

Then,

like a tribute to progress,

swoops low over a fisherman,

reeling in a bass.

You must capture the moment
like this.

In life,
you'll find,
all of the fleetingness of numbers enacted in the shadings,
between dawn and dusk.

The eye follows the bird;
keeping faith
with the journey.

`x~William H. Balzac ~ copyright 08/14/2009.

To Do.

In life,
you only have
control over so much;
asking only now
to get from Point A
to Point B.

Nature, ongoing,
falls back upon itself;
never seeming
to love a vacuum.


There will always

be another


bus.


Doesn't it feel good,

letting the raindrops


fall upon


your tongue?


`X~William ~copyright ~ 08/10/09.

Journey [Notebook] :

Working your way outward

your words seem indistinct

of meanings


thrown together

like a mosaic of many colors.



Everything falls into place


eventually.



Time loves a consistent objective


and abhors dilly-dallying,

procrastination,


and small words.




Some people



"Speak softly,


and carry a big stick."


Others, more reserved,

by far,


bring to the table


the same-old patterns,


attached to faulty wiring;

a house,

of many voices,--electric


--soon to short-out.



As you move forward,


carefully question


the many points of departure.



Your Journey,


individual,


carries each word


abidingly


from the start.


`x~William ~copyright ~ 08/07/09

For the Notebook:

In hand, beneath your armpit,
the marble
and black binding

carries an unrecognized heft;
a school-boy's trial with English

skirting 'round
street-corners

like an unlikely teacher's pet.

These days,
I still write with an eraser-tipped pencil,
diligent notes;

the hand,
as quick as the eye,
and, the words
as precious as marble.

`x~William ~ copyright~08/03/09.

Poem

Where do the words come from?
In stillness and quiet
Every simple thing
is set in stone

Never to be
taken away

The explication
and application
a wandering voice

Given freedom
a chance
to breathe

comfortably
upon the page

`x~William ~ copyright: 08/01/09.

After [Notebook]:

It seemed simple, how you walked the earth, carrying his rib into your future. The Earthworks were small then; battlements, and barricades were invisible, without any thought to War. The pastures were your magic carpet, laid out, spread across miles and miles of green. In the heavens, the big guy looked down in wonder, re-making all the rules of Temptation a blue bit of Knowledge for the coming generations. The full-blown Sixties would see you free; love, in constant flux, was a cautionary tale, gathered by the wise and infirm. For one, shining moment, History became a tablet, always re-written.

A man and woman raise their heads from the pillow, and
Drink new wine. The love-birds, feather their nest.

Somewhere, in the after-Time, they are re-born;

Peaceful Night, for Clinging desire,

Some other fire

Stoked.

`x~William ~ 7/31/09

Moon

Being tenants of this Earth
we gave praise to spaciousness,
while filling in the barrenness
with mud-huts and sticks.

The challenge and promise
to advance, gave sunlight new meaning:

Fields tilled; berries picked; and,
weather reports, occupied the farmer's thoughts

For stretching into Spring seemed an eye's-blink
of each great leap of an accounts book's
figures.

I often think of Armstrong's hand;
the way in which it had blocked-out the Earth.

Space,
no longer free of an individuals destiny,
seeks the smallness
of great things.

This is what the Sharecropper knew,
as those first steps were taken,

and, our deeds,
live on

in a Timeless, transcendent,



space.

`x~William H. Balzac ~ copyright~7/20/09.

Where do you go?

To live, and not be afraid.
To be all of who you are,
and all of who you can be.

This is where the "rubber meets the road";
the timeless forward march sees us through.

Only to live,
without curses or shouts.

And, only to love,
as the poets do.

`x~William ~ copyright~July 19,2009.